


Seventeen

by Letterblade



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Give Me Back My Idiot Child Or I Take Your Balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two dipshits in the corner weren’t even being subtle. The usual racket: find some kid hooked on the poppy tea they grew up in the mountains, up his prices, get him in debt, force him to work to pay it off, and bam, perfectly legal slavery. With the officials all looking the other way if they got paid off, of course. Most likely Kumji was shipping in the shit himself, but Gigan hadn’t proved that yet. Her best pair of eyes, the flying one, had gotten himself in debt, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a tumblr askfic for Raakelh, who responed to a prompt request with "Yona?? Fic prompts?? Oh gosh, oh gosh, um, could I have something about Gi-Gan being badass? Maybe teaching Jae-Ha a lesson or just having a snarky banter with him? Have a nice trip!"

Seventeen was the bottom, but the way Gigan sees it, that means seventeen is the way up too. No chance to kick back off to soar until you finish your fall. The brat should understand that much, after all.

Besides, the last time she’d pointed out he was falling, she’d gotten a face full of _you can’t tell me what to do_. Not surprising. Kid needed to run. You need to keep a light touch with this shit, she knew. Otherwise you just push someone away, make it so you can’t help them at all.

This, though—this was the bottom. She could feel it in her bones.

Gigan— _Captain_ Gigan—could water her throat at any and all of the seediest spots in Awa, minus those that only took male customers for obvious business reasons. In a town this rotten, after all, everything was turned inside out. The customs bureau was more dangerous than the cartel restaurant or the piss-stained bar where the freelancers tended to hang. Not that she _liked_ being here, and not that _they_ liked her being here, but she could sidle in and learn what she needed to learn and be greeted _only_ with side-eyes instead of bared steel, as long as she kept her own steel in her eyes and sleeves.

She’d heard enough after one drink. The two dipshits in the corner weren’t even being subtle. The usual racket: find some kid hooked on the poppy tea they grew up in the mountains, up his prices, get him in debt, force him to work to pay it off, and bam, perfectly legal slavery. With the officials all looking the other way if they got paid off, of course. Most likely Kumji was shipping in the shit himself, but she hadn’t proved that yet.

Her best pair of eyes, the flying one, had gotten himself in debt, after all.

Said two dipshits were deep in their cups and celebratory. Soon the little freak would be theirs, according to them. Then they’d damn well strip him down and see what made him tick. Heard from his sister the whore that he had a monster foot. Well, he’s high as a kite in the next alley over and we know his pockets are empty, let’s wait until he’s sniffling afterwards and let him know how it’s gonna be.

Gigan slammed the last of her drink down her throat, tipped the barmaid with the bags under her eyes and her kimono rucked open over her tits, and hoped the poor thing had a lifeline. And went to offer the two dipshits a business proposal. There was the usual circling—she was that weird pirate captain, after all, she was starting to get a very confusing reputation—but she got them out of the tavern quickly enough with a bullshit yarn about a big haul that she needed mercs for, fair cut of the share, etcetera.

They were so stupid they didn’t even realize she was leading them to the next alley over, right to Jaeha. And folding knife after knife between her knuckles inside her long sleeves, wearing a grim smile that must have looked quite businesslike.

Well, it was. Just a different business. Which began with her whipping the knives out and nailing both of them to the wall. They swore, they strained, they blustered as she relieved them of their own weapons, and she tuned it out, squinting down to the end of the alley where a mop of teenaged gangle and green hair stewed in sweaty bliss as the narcotic bubbled through his veins.

“Hey, brat. Look alive.”

He lolled, and focused slowly, and his eyes widened in bleary shock. He lurched to his feet, tried to get his leg under him, and faltered right back down to the filthy pavement. Wretched. _That_ sent a cold stab of real fear into Gigan’s gut—if he couldn’t fly right when he was high, they could _actually_ take him, and then he’d be right back where he started, and that was. _Unacceptable_.

“Fuck—fuck off—” he mumbled, and then caught sight of the two men she had squirming against the wall. “Oh fuck. This isn’t your business. Stay out of it.”

“You’ve made it my business,” Gigan snapped, to all three of them.

“Please.” Jaeha’s voice cracked, and he was—afraid for _her_ , she realized, sharp and sudden, and her heart ached for the poor idiot.

“As you might have gathered,” she informed the dipshits, turning back to them, “you’ve stuck your noses where they don’t belong. I’m here to buy his debt.”

“Not for sale,” sneered Dipshit the First, all false bravado.

Gigan shrugged and tossed their sheathed daggers back and forth between her hands. “And you haven’t even heard the offer yet. Not good business practice, you know.”

“Pirates who don’t kill anybody don’t get to tell us about good business practice,” Dipshit the Second grumbled. “You couldn’t possibly be turning a profit. You’re going to be grubbing in a year.”

Gigan barked with laughter. “That’s what separates us, you see. I’m not in it for the money. You might want to think about the latitude that affords me. Here’s my opening bid.” She flicked the sheathes free with her thumbs, sending them flying and baring both blades in an instant, and slashed open the fronts of their pants. “His debt for your balls. You want that I keep bidding? Throw in your dicks? Your hands? Your eyes?”

They yelled. They cursed. They invoked their higher powers, but Gigan didn’t falter—she knew they were independents. Dipshit the First escalated to dirtier threats, and got a drop of blood running down his scrotum for his troubles. “I don’t think you want to thrash much right now,” Gigan advised him, _almost_ pleasantly.

“Come on come on come on,” Dipshit the Second babbled, sweat standing out on his forehead, as the First barked incoherent nonsense about death and dogs and you’ll-regret-you-evers. “This was just easy business, this was never supposed to get us in trouble like this, no kid’s worth it, not even a jumpy one. Shit, lady, please— _I’ll_ lay off—come on, man, I like my balls, you like your balls, I like your balls—”

“Too much information,” Gigan said dryly, and gave Dipshit the First her very sternest look. “What do you think? Should I cut him loose and take double from you?”

He folded, to her faint relief. Jaeha was a little fucked up right now. Didn’t need to see his captain taking a dipshit’s balls on top of that. Gigan tuned out the rest of their babbling and cut them free in a few deft strokes, leaving them scampering naked and the tatters of their clothes still pinned to the wall with her knives.

She’d had to give them her full attention. Now she could finally take stock of Jaeha, who’d managed to claw most of the green mess out of his face and was staring up at her wide-eyed.

She flipped the daggers’ sheathes up with her toe, fitted them back on their respective blades, and stuck them into her belt. Padded over to crouch in front of him. He was pale, sweaty, reeling. Gigan let her face soften, pulled out her pipe, and lit up in the time it took Jaeha to fishmouth his way to words.

“Captain…”

“Was I too strict with you, kiddo?” she asked, gently as she could.

He made one choked little noise, and cracked. Buried his face in his hands. “No. Fuck. I…I thought I had it under control…”

“I know.” She took a long drag of her pipe, and studied him. He scrubbed sweat off his face, patted down his hair, tried to pull himself together. His hands were shaking. The earrings he’d had put in a few months ago had gotten a bit infected, she guessed, from how pink his lobes were. Brittle pride in the backs of his eyes. “What do you need?”

“What do I…?” He shook himself. “More tea.” At her look, he babbled, “Look, I know I sound stupid, but if I…I don’t wanna get sick again, I just need something right now, I—”

“Are you free?” she asked, with great weight and care.

He froze.

It was just like watching him crash-land on her deck five years ago. Only this time it was his heart, smacking bottom, and she didn’t budge, and waited for him to move.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” he said finally, weakly, with a very sad smile.

“‘Bout the same as most seventeen-year-olds I’ve known. You’re not that weird a guy, for a legendary dragon.” She sighed, dragging on her pipe, and his eyes fluttered half-closed as the familiar scent of the smoke washed over him. “Everybody gets stupid. Either you stay that way, or you get less stupid. I’m not gonna swoop in and save you from yourself, Jaeha. You’re not the sort who’d appreciate that. But if you come with me, I’ll get that shit out of your system. Whatever it takes, even if you hate me for it. You understand?”

He swallowed a few times, eyes flicking back and forth as he searched her face, and finally, to her considerable relief, tipped forward against her shoulder with a whine.

He really was a sweet kid. Seventeen would be the bottom. She was sure of that. Maybe by eighteen, he’d start growing into a man.


End file.
